


Doctor's Orders

by amelia_petkova



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_petkova/pseuds/amelia_petkova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahiru is sick and Fakir makes soup. Contains spoilers for series end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fakir and Ahiru are the property of Princess Tutu. (Well, they’re Drosselmeyer’s property, but anyway.)
> 
> This story contains the assumption that Fakir manages to turn Ahiru back to a girl at some point.

Fakir turned the stove burner off and stirred the pot’s contents once more. He nodded in satisfaction: it looked and smelled done. He ladled several spoonfuls into a bowl and carried the lunch tray upstairs.

Ahiru poked her head out from beneath the covers. She was buried under several quilts, and the bedside table was covered in boxes of tissue and cups of tea. Her face was flushed from the minor fever that had appeared that morning. “What is it?” she asked and sneezed.

He set the tray down on the bed. “Try eating this. You’ll feel better.”

Ahiru brightened and sat up. “Thanks, Fakir!” she said, her natural bounciness momentarily restored. She lifted the spoon to her lips, then returned it to the bowl and stared at him, aghast. “You made soup,” she said.

“I know it’s soup, idiot,” he said, with equal amounts of affection and exasperation.

“There’s _chicken_ in it!”

“That’s why they call it chicken noodle soup. It’s good when you’re sick.”

Ahiru crossed her arms. Her imperious stance was marred by another sneeze. “I can’t believe you’re trying to feed me a fellow bird! It’s disgusting!”

“But you weren’t a chicken. And you’re not a duck anymore,” he protested.

“It still counts!”

“Can’t you pretend it’s just another vegetable?”

The soup went flying.

**Author's Note:**

> This story partially originated in a conversation with my aunt, who is raising chickens this year and said they will eat just about anything she feeds them. Being the curious barbarian that I am, I asked if she had tried feeding them cooked chicken. She said she hadn’t thought of it.


End file.
